


Who Holds the Light

by araydre



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Tony Stark, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-15 12:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15412587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araydre/pseuds/araydre
Summary: “Why are you following me? Who sent you?” Tony demanded as soon as the man was within hearing range. There was no answer, the stranger didn’t even startle, just kept stalking closer, a knife now in his hand.“Is this how it’s going to be? Alright then..."Or how Tony picks up mercenaries like stray kittens, Bucky is confused and Fury didn't ask for any of this.





	Who Holds the Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dapperanachronism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperanachronism/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Dap! <3

Tony was being followed. He walked along a busy thoroughfare greeting merchants here and there, and stopped to chat with a potmaker just to watch the reflection of his stalker in the shiny merchandize. From what he could make out in the distorted reflection, the man was somewhat unkempt and wore some kind of a mercenary getup. Internally sighing Tony bid farewell to the merchant and went on his way, looking for a familiar side street. He took the turn, and swiftly settled in to wait in a conveniently placed recessed doorway. A man walked past and Tony pretended to be engrossed with the contents of his bag, nothing to see here, just getting out of the sun. Not long after the stalker turned into the alley and Tony got a closer look at him - lank brown hair covering his face, long sleeved coat and gloves even in the blistering heat, and bristling with weapons. This time Tony sighed out aloud, just his luck, and right after receiving summons for a consultation at the Citadel.

“Why are you following me? Who sent you?” Tony demanded as soon as the man was within hearing range. There was no answer, the stranger didn’t even startle, just kept stalking closer, a knife now in his hand. 

“Is this how it’s going to be? Alright then,” Tony threw a small bottle at the man’s feet. He made a swift leap aside, but the bottle had already shattered on the cobblestones and a puff of dust escaped, enveloping the area. The man coughed, spluttered and fell unconscious. 

“So let’s see if you are carrying anything interesting. Orders would be nice,” Tony said to himself and sent a swift gust of wind through the alley to clear the air. 

Just as he had crouched down close enough to search the man, his left arm shot out and closed around Tony’s throat. Panic rushed through him as he struggled to get free. This should not be happening! The man had to be out cold for an hour at the least. His thrashing did no good, the arm was as if made of iron. Wait, iron, it was made of metal, Tony gathered some of his wits and took stock of the situation. He could sense metal and a curse. With spots dancing before his eyes, he shot a disruptive flash throughout the arm and it relaxed. 

Taking a deep breath, Tony coughed. “Oh, stars! Who under this godsforsaken sky are you?”

With slightly wobbly steps, he turned and left the man behind, sprawled on the dusty cobbles, his left arm now limp and lifeless.

***

Two nights later the wards around Tony’s home were vibrating like plucked strings, sensing ill intent. 

“Jarvis, would you go see who’s disturbing the wards?” Tony said looking up from his workbench.

“Of course, Sir,” the raven said, flapped his wings and flew out the nearest window. Soon after he returned with news.

“It is the man with the metal arm, you should inform the city guard,” Jarvis huffed as he settled on Tony’s workbench.

“No need to get them involved, while he’s doing no harm. But keep an eye on him, hm?”

“As you wish, sir,” Jarvis croaked in a tone that made his disagreement quite clear.

***

Tony kept himself surrounded by people or didn’t leave the house at all. The strange man kept watching. As a week had gone by the ill intent had simmered down to a background thrum, no longer twanging the wards discordantly.

Finally came the day Tony was supposed to go to the Citadel. It was a discreet meeting with the kings spymaster, Sir Fury, and Tony went well prepared for any eventuality. 

“Stark,” Sir Fury greeted, “it is a pleasure to have you here,” his tone making clear it was anything but.

“Likewise, Sir,” said Tony in a honey sweet voice. 

“I know you for a trustworthy man, so I won’t beat about the bush. Someone is casting spells in the castle. I need to know, who, why and where.”

“The where should be easy to figure out, the why and who seems more like your line of business”

“It would be, but I can’t track spells personally and I can’t trust the spellcasters inside the Citadel,” growled Fury

“Fine. Give me a workspace with no interruptions and I will do as you ask.”

The spymaster himself showed Tony and Jarvis to a room adjacent to his office, well stocked with magical paraphernalia. Tony took stock.

“I don’t want to intrude on someone else’s workshop,” said Tony.

“That will be no problem for them,” Fury said in an ominous tone and made Tony wonder if he would be the next relieved of any future problems.

Despite his vague concerns the spymaster’s request could not be ignored and Tony got to work, laying out his own tools and arranging the ones already in the workshop, with Jarvis helpfully cataloguing the contents of the room.

He started weaving the most discreet seeking spell found in his library.

***

Bucky woke from a nightmare about a ship he had never seen, sinking in a sea he had never sailed, her captain standing proud at the wheel. He shivered a bit and shook off the remnants of the dream with practiced ease. 

Returning to his watchpost, he surveilled the house. It was silent and dark, his target had left during his nap, damn it. The house was well defended by magic, breaking in impossible by conventional means. 

He had watched the man overwork himself, fall asleep at the bench, occasionally blow something up in his own face, but never harm another human being, and Bucky’s desire to finish his task had slowly waned. Bucky should have long ago returned to his Lord, and explained the situation, but he suddenly had needed time to think. To recall all the men he had been sent to kill. They may have been just as hard working and earnest as this one, but he would never know. 

There had to be a reason for his task, he thought, his Lord, who had rescued him from the enemy hands at the end of the war, would never order such a thing without a good reason, so he had kept watching and following.

Finally his chance came when the man and his raven returned from the Citadel late that night. Bucky was creeping up on his target, when the raven croaked out a “Behind you, sir!” and his element of surprise was lost. 

“Hands where I can see them,” Bucky growled stalking closer, a throwing knife at the ready.

“Oh, sure,” the man replied easily and raised his hands submissively, his palms dark with something. The something turned out to be spell circles of all things, tattooed into his very skin. Bucky watched with despair as the circles spun to life, flashing a sapphire glow and then he knew no more.

***

Bucky woke in a bed so soft he couldn’t believe it existed. The bed was wonderful, his splitting headache was not. He groaned, blinked his eyes open and realized he had no idea where he was. Sliding his feet from under the covers, he propped himself up on an elbow and looked around the room. It turned out to be somewhat familiar, though never from this close. This was a room inside his target’s house, and he was sleeping in a soft bed, not restrained and not dead. The man clearly had no self preservation instinct!

Being relieved of his boots made sneaking around the house easier, and he made his way silently to the workshop, where his current host was most often found, and true to habit, he was there, hunched over a bench. 

“Oh good, you are awake!” the man suddenly turned, while Bucky was sure he had made no sound to be identified. 

“How did you know I was here?” he asked, looking about for anything that could have given away his presence.

“Make no mistake, you are no danger to me in this house,” the man replied in a sterner tone.

“And why am I in this house?”

“You are interesting, you were not really intent on killing me, were you? But you tried anyway, also you have a lovely curse on your arm.”

“A curse?” Bucky was getting more befuddled by the moment.

“Sure, a very complex one. Did you not know?”

“There is no curse, you must be mistaken,” his lord had given him a new arm for the one he had lost in the war. Sure it was magical in nature, but not cursed! 

“There is indeed! I’m a spellbreaker by trade, I would know. But never mind that now, what should I call you? I am Anthony, Tony to my friends, but we are not that close yet,” the man, Anthony, winked.

“Call me James.”

“Nice to properly meet you, James.”

“Likewise,” Bucky mumbled, the polite response ingrained by his mother.

“You must be hungry, James,” Anthony said, raising form his seat.

Bucky thought of all the missed breakfasts and scrounged up suppers while watching Anthony and his stomach rumbled.

“I could eat, if you are offering.”

They made the way to the kitchen, Anthony carelessly turning his back and leading him. There a pot of thick soup simmered over a blue flame and filled the room with a delicious aroma.

Anthony puttered about a bit finding bowls and then ladled out two for both of them to eat, afterwards cutting hearty slices of dark bread to go with it.

“Here you go. So if I were to ask, who sent you, would you answer?” he asked.

“No, but thank you for the food,” Bucky replied. 

He dug in and Anthony did the same but at a slower rate. For a while there was just the clatter of spoons and crockery heard. Bucky got himself a second helping, the soup really was as delicious as it smelled.

“You are welcome to stay here, that way you can keep a closer eye on me,” Anthony said as he finished his meal, “I’m back to the workshop, but you are free to explore.”

After lingering in the kitchen some more to enjoy the homeliness of the space, Bucky then went to explore as suggested. He kept an ear out for his host’s movements, but there were none, even the raven was quiet.

***

Judging his guest adequately distracted by the library, Tony quietly gathered his things and left the house for the Citadel with Jarvis on his shoulder. 

Having arrived there with no incident, he gave a short greeting to Sir Fury and the three of them entered the workroom to check on what his seeking spell had caught. While Tony interpreted the findings, Fury stood silent and frowning by his side. The results were … interesting. There was a web of spells spanning the entire Citadel, most tightly woven around the Kings quarters, all done by the same hand that had cursed James.

“So, shall I tell you the good news, the bad news, or the interesting news first?” asked Tony, straightening up from his hunched position.

“Start with the bad,” grunted Fury, clasping his arms together behind his back.

“All right then, the spells are mostly centered around our king and his quarters.” Tony said as neutrally as he could manage.

“By gods’ lower beards,” Fury spat, starting to pace around the limited space, “I knew there was something going on. So what is the good news.” 

“I have seen this magic before,” Tony poked at the tools on the table.

“Yeah? Where exactly?” Fury halted his pacing for a moment

“That would be the interesting news - on a magically enhanced mercenary,” answered Tony

Fury’s one visible eyebrow shot up. “And where did you find said mercenary?”

“Oh, I did not find him, he found me, shortly after I received your letter,” Tony stood as well, making Jarvis spread his wings to keep his balance.

Fury’s frown deepened, “So they knew to send one. What did you do with him?”

“I disarmed him and went on my merry way,” Tony smirked.

“If they tried once, they’ll try again. I want guards on you.”

“Let my security be my own concern, I will catch the next one for you to question,” said Tony, turning to leave.

Jarvis croaked and fluttered his wings, but stayed silent otherwise.

“See that you do then,” Fury dismissed him shortly.

***

On his way home Tony considered what to tell his guest, if indeed he was still in his house. The situation was getting complicated, and while he had not lied to Sir Fury exactly, he had not told the whole truth either, some strange drive to protect James keeping the words from spilling out.

As soon as he entered the house and closed the door behind him, James melted out of the shadows, frowning.

“Where were you?”

Tony grinned, “I’m not going to make your job that much easier.”

“You do realize that once my lord decides that I have failed in killing you, he will send somebody else?” James’ scowl deepened.

“Why is everybody frowning at me today?” Tony asked Jarvis, as he put his cloak away.

“It is no less than you deserve, sir,” the raven croaked, hopping back on his shoulder when Tony turned back to James

“I was right, you have no self preservation instinct,” said James, shaking his head bewildered.

“You could end half the frowns by telling me who sent you to kill me,” Tony stated bluntly.

James winced, “You have been nothing but kind to me, I don’t know why he would … But Anthony, I cannot tell you.”

“I know exactly why, but that is no talk for the front door,” Tony countered and brought James down to the workshop. He settled into his seat while Jarvis fluttered off his shoulder and perched himself on the back of the chair.

“Take a seat, there are plenty of places to sit here,” Tony suggested.

Once James was settled, Tony said “I’m going to sing you a song to explain the matter at hand, it’s not an amazing song, since I just made it up , but after I’m finished you will forget it anyway, so no harm done.”

“While I’m singing, you have to decide if you are going to tell me your lord’s name, and do it. Or not. Do you agree to this?”

“Is the reason why I was sent after you that much of a secret?”

“It is,” Tony responded seriously. Matter like this deserved to be treated with some gravity.

James nodded, “You did me no harm while I was unconscious in your house, I’ll trust you.”

Tony settled in more comfortably in his seat and started humming the melody of a familiar ballad. Once James’ eyes took on a glazed look he crooned out the first verse.

“There was a king in his citadel  
They called the valorous  
And a wars he won, and peace he brought  
And sat upon his throne

There was a lord without a name  
Who craved this certainty  
And so he went to cast a spell upon the king  
To have it for his own

There was a well known spellbreaker  
They called in to help  
And the lord grew wary and sent his man  
To clear him off the way

Here is the man in my own house  
And asked him I have  
To share the name of the nameless lord  
What answer does he give?”

Tony got to the end and looked James in the eye, still humming.

“He is a good man, Anthony, I can’t betray his trust like this,” James sounded desperate, leaning forward in his chair, hands clutching at his hair.

Tony had to cut the melody and sighed, the spell was broken.

“So, what happened?” James asked.

“I could not convince you to tell me his name, you are very loyal to your lord,” Tony sighed again.

“... Thank you for telling me that, you could have lied and tried to trick me, but you didn’t. I believe you are a good man, Anthony. I don’t understand why I was sent after you.”

“Maybe I’m barking up the wrong tree here, maybe your lord really is a good man, only with bad advisors. Tell me - who crafted your arm?”

“Why do you need to know that?” James looked at him askance.

“The same person who crafted your arm has been casting spells where they shouldn’t. That’s all I can tell you about it, sorry, but it’s a matter of the state.”

James sat for a moment, frowning, and then said “You might be right. Promise me no harm will come to my lord and I will tell you the mage’s name.”

“I can promise no harm will come to him if he is innocent in the matter,” hedged Tony.

It was James’ turn to sigh, “I suppose that is the most I can ask of you. But for some reason I trust you, like I never trusted the mage. His name is Zola.”

“Jarvis!” Tony called, “Wake up! I need you to carry a message to Sir Fury.”

Jarvis, who had been lulled into a nap by Tony’s singing, shook out his feathers and croaked, “Of course, sir, what is the message?”

“The mage’s name is Zola. Now it’s his turn to start looking into things.”

“Sir Fury? The Kings spymaster? This really is a matter of the state,” exclaimed James.

“It really is,” agreed Tony tiredly.

***

As it was approaching time for dinner, Tony again lead the way to the kitchen and started preparing the ingredients for a meal. 

“Nothing fancy here, just soup as it’s easy to make,” he explained while washing vegetables in a basin.

“Can I help?” James asked, standing awkwardly by the table.

“Sure, just grab a knife and get to peeling these.” Tony dumped a bunch of dripping potatoes on the table.

“You are giving me a knife, just like that?”

“Are you going to stab me with it?” Tony smirked.

“I just might, you are insufferable,” James grumbled.

“I am irresistible, and you know it,” Tony winked and turned back to his task, now scrubbing carrots.

While James was busy with the mundane task, Tony went into the pantry and returned with a packet, that turned out to contain neatly chopped meat, that went into the pot, and soon the delicious aroma of frying meat filled the kitchen.

“Chop those up when you’re done,” ordered Tony busying himself with bottles of spices and a pinch of this and a pinch of that went into the pot as well.

“Why do you have no one to cook for you, Anthony?” 

“I don’t like people in my house, so I’d rather do it myself,” he replied.

“Yet here I am, don’t you mind me being here?” James continued.

“I have grown used to you, you know. While you were watching me, I was watching you as well,” said Tony with a grin.

A flutter of wings announced Jarvis’ return. “Sir, Fury demands that you surrender the mercenary to his custody.”

“Did you tell him he was here, Jarvis?” Tony asked.

“No, sir, but he knows you well enough to guess.”

“I told him I’d catch him another one, James is mine.”

“We should go to him and I’ll tell him what I know,” interjected James.

“I don’t want you anywhere near him, you can tell me what you know and we’ll pass it along,” now it was Tony’s turn to frown.

“Then I will go on my own. You can’t keep me in this house.”

“Don’t be so sure,” grumbled Tony under his breath, but James heard him anyway and laughed.

Tony gathered the chopped potatoes and carrots, and dumped them into the pot, adding chunks off cabbage and left the soup to simmer.

“If you are really determined to go, I will go with you. And I will not leave you there.”

“I am. But let us have the dinner first,” siad James.

***

While they waited for the dinner to cook, they chatted of inconsequential things and, once the food was ready, Bucky ate with relish. 

He imagined this might be his last filling meal for a long while, if Sir Fury got his way and did take him into custody. Now that he thought about it, a lot of the orders coming his way could have been influenced by Zola and his schemes, and there were schemes, if the king’s spymaster was involved.

“We should go tonight,” Bucky said after sopping up the last of the soup with a piece of bread.

“You don’t have to, though. None of this is your responsibility, you have just been following orders.” Anthony set down his spoon.

“But it is!” Bucky leaned forward, “I should have seen that there was something shady going on, and not followed those orders blindly. So let’s go now and get this over with.” 

“All right then, if you are sure,” Anthony rose from the table, face grim.

There was nothing much more to say on the subject so Bucky followed his host to the workshop and watched him pack his bag. At the door they got their cloaks and left the house.

Not ten steps out the door they were attacked. The band of men charging out of the shadows in a familiar formation. 

Jarvis screeched and flew into the face of the first attacker, claws extended. Anthony took a stance that Bucky remembered from his own encounter, his tattooed palms glowing. Bucky himself leapt forward punching and kicking, but trying not to do any permanent damage. These were his brothers in arms after all.

One moment it seemed they would have the advantage over the attackers, but then Bucky’s left arm pulled taut and started dragging him away from the fight like a puppet, leaving Anthony and Jarvis to fend for themselves.

He struggled with all his might, but could do nothing against his own appendage. 

“James! Brace yourself!” Anthony shouted and shot a blast of magic towards the misbehaving arm. It shattered and an agonizing lance of pain shot through Bucky’s every nerve. Released from the pull, he collapsed on the cobblestones, uncomprehendingly watching red light bleed like blood out of the broken stump of his arm.

A moment later he gathered his wits enough to focus on the fight, but it seemed Anthony had everything well in hand. While Jarvis distracted the men, screeching and clawing at their faces, Anthony was pulling something out of his stuffed bag. A moment later the fight was over, the men standing frozen to the spot, unmoving, not even blinking.

“Jarvis, get Fury here!” Anthony ordered and ran towards where Bucky had fallen.

Jarvis flew off, turned into a streak of blue light and was gone.

Anthony dropped to his knees in front of Bucky, and started desperately gesticulating around the broken limb, his palms still shining blue. Slowly the pain released him and Bucky watched the red light shimmer and go out.

“So, the curse,” he grunted with effort raising his head.

“I have been told it’s not appropriate to tell you I told you so in a situation like this, but yes, the curse,” Anthony exhaled in relief and leaned back on his heels.

Slowly, despite the late hour, gawkers were gathering around the scene. 

“Don’t touch them, folks! Or you will end up just as frozen!” called Anthony, turning his head.

A moment later they could faintly hear the clatter of hooves in the distance, approaching their whereabouts. A few moments more and Sir Fury lead his people at a gallop down the street. 

“So what’s the fire,” Fury leapt from his horse and the people scattered.

“No fire, unless you count the mercenaries sent after us, just as we were going to pay you a visit. I said I’d catch you the next one, and here is a bunch,” Anthony replied, rising and extending a hand to Bucky. He took the hand in his remaining one and pulled himself onto wobbly feet.

“Can you walk?” Anthony asked quietly.

Bucky nodded and released the hand, only to be grabbed around the waist. 

“Into the house you go, while I deal here. Your talk with Fury can wait.”

“No,” Bucky croaked in a voice reminiscent of Jarvis’, “Should do that now.”

Anthony looked at him intently and nodded, “Wait a moment then.” 

Now a bit steadier on his feet, he disentantangled himself from the supporting arm and shuffled over to lean against a wall.

“Release them from the spell and we will take them off your hands,” Fury said gruffly, walking between the mercenaries and examining them, all the while carefully keeping his hands clasped behind his back.

“Be ready to restrain them,” Anthony rummaged again in his bag and pulled out a small bottle. As he uncorked it, he commented with a grin.

“Smelling salts are good for more than fainting spells.”

***

The four mercenaries were escorted away by Sir Fury’s aides. Anthony, Bucky and Fury himself entered the house. 

“What would have happened if I touched one of them,” Bucky asked just as the door closed, suddenly curious. 

“Nothing,” Anthony answered with a grin, “I just didn’t want them to get pick-pocketed.”

Fury snorted.

Suddenly the victorious smile dropped from Anthony’s face and he turned to face James. 

“James, I'm sorry, I should have realized you were safe here inside the house, protected by the wards, and that it would be dangerous for you to go outside,” he wrung his hands, “I’m sorry I had to hurt you, I will craft you a better arm, I promise.”

“All right, enough of this. We have things to talk about,” Fury interrupted, moving confidently towards the living room.

Guided by Anthony, Bucky followed him. As soon as he was released form Anthony’s grip, Bucky stumbled and almost tripped over an ottoman, his sense of balance gone. He tried to smile and avoid seeing the guilty look in Anthony’s eyes.

Finally settled into comfortable armchairs, Sir Fury measured them with a stern glare.

“So, Stark, start by telling me, why you are helping one of the mercenaries into your house, and in such a friendly manner too.” 

“What I do in my house should be none of your concern.” Anthony’s frown matched Fury’s, and Bucky was suddenly struck with the realization who his host was - Anthony Stark, the famed battle mage, who had returned from the war with debilitating injury only to disappear from the public eye, and had been assumed by many to be dead.

“It is when I’m trusting you with state secrets,” Fury leaned forward, and Bucky shrunk deeper into his chair, feeling like he had stumbled into something way over his head.

“I have not broken your trust. The two of us have been dancing around the matters of trust like cats around a bowl of hot porridge,” Anthony exclaimed, gesticulating wildly.

“Now then, James, I hear you are willing to shed some light on the mystery we have found ourselves with?” Fury asked, focusing his intent gaze on Bucky.

“Ah, I’ll answer what I can,” he said, wishing he could clasp his hands together.

“Tell me then, what do you know about Zola,” Fury ordered.

“He is my lord’s advisor on all things magical,” Bucky considered his words, “I have not had much to do with him other than when he gave me my arm, but he is an unpleasant man.”

“And who is your lord?” Fury prompted.

“Lord Pierce, he rescued me and other soldiers from an enemy prison camp, and has been like a father to us since.”

“The King's military advisor lord Pierce?” Anthony asked surprised, “If Zola is his mage, I’d have thought I’d know him.”

“So should I,” Fury frowned, “This bears investigating.”

“Stark, do you take responsibility for James while the investigation lasts? Otherwise I have to take him in.” Fury rose from his seat. 

“Yes, he’ll be safe here,” Anthony answered rising as well. 

Bucky remained seated, watching Anthony walk Sir Fury to the door.

“As soon as we have Zola, you will be called in to dismantle his web of spells,” Bucky could hear Fury’s voice from the front room. 

“I will be there.” At this moment Anthony sounded nothing like the man who had bantered with him in the kitchen.

Bucky shook off his confusion, as he heard the door close and Anthony return, and with some difficulty rose himself.

“So, Anthony Stark,” he greeted him with a slight smile, “Nice to meet you, I’m James Barnes”

Anthony extended his hand to him, “Tony, to my friends.”

Bucky clasped the hand, “friends call me Bucky. Looks like we will be spending more time together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for betaing and making this a better story, [Bill_Longbow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/pseuds/Bill_Longbow) and thank you for cheering me on, [Feelingsinwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feelingsinwinter/pseuds/Feelingsinwinter) and [Fancy_Dragonqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fancy_Dragonqueen/pseuds/Fancy_Dragonqueen)!


End file.
